He nodded. “Very well, I give you my word. You should be strong enough by then.” His brow furrowed. “Now, however, I have my doubts even about the short hike you propose. We might need to see how far you can walk before we set out. You haven’t tested yourself yet.” He gestured toward the river. “Want to give it a try?”
They set out along the riverbank, picking their way over fallen logs and roots, following the flow downstream with the sunlight arcing over their shoulders. Angel had taken short walks, but only close by the cabin and not too far out of sight. This day, it seemed, Larkin Quill intended to go a good deal farther. She took her time following him, noting how smoothly and easily he made his way through the tangle of vegetation, how effortless he made it seem. She carried water and drank from the skin often, measuring her pace, gauging her strength, careful with everything. She carried, as well, the black, rune-carved staff of her office, its smooth wood comforting, its presence reassuring. The day was hot, but the breezes that blew off the water kept them cool as they walked.
“I think you saved them,” he said suddenly at one point. “Simralin and her brother, up there on Syrring Rise. They didn’t say it, but that was the impression I got.”
“They saved me,” she said.
“A good partnership, then.” He kept walking steadily ahead and didn’t look back at her. “Between humans and Elves. A good sign of what might lie ahead, don’t you think?”
“I hope so. If there’s no cooperation, there’s no survival. We’ll all be destroyed by whatever’s coming.”
“Or by whatever comes after,” he added. “It never ends, really, does it? You overcome one obstacle, one evil, one enemy, and another steps into the unoccupied space. I think about that. We persevere, but it isn’t ever really over for us. Not even for those who don’t want any part of it. The Elves are a perfect example. They want no part of the human world, no part of its evils, of the demons and once-men and all the rest. They just want to be left alone, and so they isolate themselves and stick their heads in the ground so they won’t be seen.” He made a vague gesture. “You can see where it’s gotten them.”
“They seem to be doing something now,” she observed.
“That’s so,” he agreed. He glanced back. “Too little, too late, perhaps? Time will tell.”
They had gone about three miles when he stopped, looked around, and moved into the shadow of a small cluster of conifers that fringed the mudflats they had passed onto. He found what was left of the trunk of a fallen tree and sat down.
She moved over and sat beside him. “I’m winded.”
“You’ve done well. I didn’t think you would get this far without resting.” He reached over and patted her leg affectionately. “I think you’re ready to make the trip upriver to your friends. We’ll go in the morning.”
“I would like that, Larkin.” She gave him a genuinely warm smile, not caring that he couldn’t see it. “You’ve done a lot for me, mi amigo. You took risks for me when you didn’t have to. You’ve been a good friend.”
Larkin laughed. “Did I? What was I thinking?”
She laughed with him, and then she rose and stood looking off into the distance, across the river to the cliffs beyond. “I need to try something,” she said quietly. She glanced back at him. “I need to see if I can summon the magic.”
He looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”
“I don’t know. I just know I have to be sure.” She hesitated. “I lost something back on the mountain. My life, almost, but something more, too. Something of myself. It’s hard to explain, but I won’t feel complete until I know I have the magic to command. I won’t feel whole.”
He brushed idly at his shock of wild black hair. “And how will you test it?”
“I only need to make certain I can summon it. It won’t take a moment.”
He didn’t say anything further, so she stepped away from him and faced off into the distance, holding the staff before her, both hands gripping its smooth surface, her fingers working slowly over the indentations of the runes. The staff was her life, the verification of who she was and what she did. She needed to know that her close brush with death hadn’t robbed her of its power, hadn’t leached it away. She knew she was probably being foolish, that such a thing couldn’t happen. But her confidence was diminished, and she needed to strengthen it anew.
She reached down inside herself and called the magic to her, joining with the staff, feeling it become a part of her.
The runes began to glow instantly, bright red beneath her fingers, and the magic flared from the staff in a soft, white glow that widened against the dappled shadows cast by the branches of the trees. She felt a surge of relief, vindication of her need. The magic was there and it was hers. She was still a Knight of the Word.
She let it fade quickly, exhaled sharply, and turned back to Larkin Quill.
“Are you reassured?” the Elf asked with a wry smile. “Doubts chased back into the dark corners, everything sunny and bright?”
“Everything sunny and bright,” she replied.